The Non-Judging Breakfast Club
by KyronP
Summary: This story follows all the characters' lives after the five year flashforward. All of the gang, and some of the notable guest stars, is back! And this story attempts to fill you in on everything you've missed and all of the juicy drama to come! Life on the Upper East is never boring. And with all of the characters in their late twenties, new escapades are sure to entertain. XoXo
1. Blair

_Blair_

"Mrs. Bass, your two o' clock appointment just canceled."

Blair rolled her eyes, exasperated by the incompetence of her latest assistant Jessica. She'd corrected her more than once: she was Blair Waldorf-Bass. She had absolutely no problem with her husband's surname but she was a Waldorf long before she was a Bass and she wanted the world to know it. That and the fact that she had inherited her mother's legacy, of course. Having a 'Mrs. Bass' at the helm of the company wouldn't make as much sense as having a 'Waldorf'. And since she had no brothers, it was up to her to keep the family name going.

That was why she'd also named her darling son Henry Waldorf-Bass.

"Could you send Jenny in here? I need to see her," said Blair. "Thank you." She hung up the phone.

Now that her afternoon was completely free thanks to the designers who were supposed to be building the new Waldorf Designs boutique in the Meatpacking District, she felt like she could probably do something fun with the rest of it. Like surprise Charles—the 'Chuck' thing was so five years ago—at his office and whisk him away to their house in the Hamptons early for the long Labor Day weekend. After all, it was the Friday before the last weekend in summer. And everyone who was anyone would be in the Hamptons, especially for Serena's pink party, which was scheduled to take place on Saturday at the Humphrey estate, which was a wedding gift from Lily to her daughter and son-in-law last year, and which was right next to Blair's. They could swing by the house and collect Henry and then head into the Hamptons like they'd been doing all summer.

Blair was just about to unlock her BlackBerry when she heard a knock on her door and Jenny Humphrey was standing there, smiling over at her. Sometimes it was hard to believe how much Jenny had grown since their high school days; how much she had changed. She was certainly past that gothic phase and traded her miniskirts for tasteful dresses. She'd even managed to cut her hair into a pixie cut, which made her look really pretty and forced you to admire her cheekbones.

"Hi, Blair," said Jenny, sitting down on the other side of Blair's large, wooden table. She crossed her legs daintily and pulled her turquoise jacket closer to her slender frame. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to hear about how things are going down in the atelier," said Blair meekly, refusing to lock eyes with Jenny. "Is everything going well?"

Jenny chuckled, forcing Blair to glare at her.

"What's so funny?" barked Blair.

"Blair, everything is fine," responded Jenny. "We're all okay. The latest samples for Fashion Week are really wonderful and the models are coming in for fittings on Monday. We have a really good team down there."

"Good, good," said Blair. "I was just checking."

Jenny arched an eyebrow. "Just checking? Blair, if that's all you wanted to know you could have called me on my cell. You know I always have it on me." She waved her iPhone in the air. "I would have answered."

"Fine," said Blair. "I'm sorry. It's just…I feel like I don't have much to do anymore now that I'm not in the atelier anymore."

"Blair, what you do is really important," said Jenny, smiling in a lopsided way and nodding her head. "You're the business head of the company. You run our day-to-day operations."

"But you're the talent," mumbled Blair.

She knew that it was juvenile to be…jealous of Jenny but it was hard not to be. Especially since Jenny had all but replaced her exactly eight months ago as the new head designer at Waldorf Designs. Essentially, Jenny was supposed to be the Yves St. Laurent to Blair's Pierre Berge: Jenny actually did all of the designing while Blair handled the business end. So it was Jenny who had been the one getting to walk down the runway at the end of every fashion show last season while Blair was forced to sit front row and clap with the other plebs.

Even though she hated to admit it, she had started looking forward to those final walks at the various Fashion Weeks that she would attend in London, Paris, Milan and, of course, New York (her hometown). But she also hated to admit that she was fresh out of ideas. Her last collection had not been critically acclaimed by the fashion world and while it had sold, the figures weren't up to Waldorf Design standards.

And that was when Jenny was called in.

Blair secretly despised how much of an eye her mother had obviously been keeping on Jenny since she'd moved to New York after getting her fashion design degree at Central Saint Martins. So when Blair had somewhat of a nervous breakdown while having brunch with her mom at Sarabeth's concerning the state of affairs at Waldorf Designs and Eleanor simply said, "We should try to get our hands on Jenny Humphrey," Blair had been immediately offended.

Had Eleanor always wanted Jenny to work at the company? She knew that Eleanor had always had a soft spot for Jenny but still! Why was Jenny the first candidate for the position over any of the other talented designers living in New York City?

Of course, it was difficult to not know about all that Jenny had achieved.

Fact: Jenny Humphrey had risen up the ranks at Badgley Mischka in record time.

Fact: Jenny Humphrey had managed to upgrade from Brooklyn to a Carrie Bradshaw-esque apartment on the Upper East Side.

Fact: Jenny Humphrey was engaged to mayoral candidate and one of Blair's oldest friends Nate Archibald.

All of this simply meant that, much like her brother Dan, Jenny was very much on the inside. Or at least she was on the cusp of it. So Blair decided to go with the flow and had offered Jenny a position at Waldorf Designs that paid twice as much as she was getting at Badgley Mischka. How could Jenny refuse?

"Well I guess that's it," said Blair, logging off her computer and pushing her chair back. She got up and put on her Burberry-check jacket over her red Eleanor Waldorf dress and picked up her snakeskin Hermes Birkin Bag. "You can leave."

Jenny said, "Enjoy your weekend," and quickly left the room.

Blair took a deep breath as she looked out her window, gazing at the passersby who were oblivious to her own penance. She couldn't believe that she was actually indebted to Jenny Humphrey for keeping her mother's company afloat. And Jenny certainly had managed to turn out some fabulous designs last season: from their high fashion to their mass market, Waldorf Designs was getting up there and competing with all of the big names in fashion like Chanel, Gucci and Stella McCartney.

_Vogue_ had even named Waldorf "the look of the Manhattan woman" since Jenny's debut as head designer. Nothing like that had ever been written up about Blair other than, "Blair Waldorf-Bass managed to put out a nice collection this season, true to the Manhattan roots established by her mother."

Yet another slap in the face.

Blair walked out of her clean, modern office and said, "Would you have my car brought around?" to her assistant before making a beeline for the elevator. At a moment like this, she knew that there was only one person who she wanted to just sit around the pool with and moan and groan about her life and about everything that was happening.

Serena.

Her best friend for as long as she could remember. Yes, they'd had their fair share of fallings out but those days were long gone. They'd learnt the art of agreeing to disagree because the reality of it was that they handled most things in very different ways. They always had and they always would.

Blair got down to the lobby of her building and everyone said, "Good evening," to her but she only vaguely recalled that they were speaking to her. She felt the way she used to back in school: like she was trapped in an Audrey Hepburn movie. As if her _Breakfast At Tiffany's_ film had ended without her Paul Varjak. She just wanted to get home, throw some things into a bag, and head over to her house in the Hamptons.

Her car was waiting for her out front and she got in. It was still pretty early in the afternoon so she didn't encounter much traffic outside of the ordinary New York traffic that she'd grown accustomed to and eventually the car pulled up in front of her perfect five-storey townhouse on scenic East 70th Street.

She'd first stumbled across the house in a book that she'd gotten from her real estate agent four years ago, when she was pregnant with Henry. She'd been looking for a place for her and Chuck to start a fresh life together: somewhere that was big enough to house a family but still classy and, of course, on the Upper East Side. She liked her mother's duplex but it was time that she and Chuck got something of their own. And when she'd seen it, she'd found it to be absolutely perfect. It had five bedrooms, five bathrooms and an 18th century fireplace that pretty much sold it for Blair. Chuck didn't seem to care all that much, as long as she was happy with it, and he'd bought it for their little family.

"Dorota!" called Blair, as she opened the front door of the house. "Cecile!"

Dorota shuffled out from the kitchen with Cecile, Henry's live-in French nanny, in her wake with little Henry in her arms. Henry was covered in flour. Clearly he was helping them bake something and he was making a mess of it.

"Dorota, do you have a bag packed for me to go to the Hamptons house?" asked Blair, tossing her bag and jacket onto the antique sofa. She started walking up the staircase. "I'd like to leave. Now."

"Of course, Mrs. Blair," said Dorota, picking up the things Blair had set down and following Blair up the staircase. "I expected you to want to go for Mrs. Serena's pink party."

"Cecile," continued Blair, "I'm going to need you to prepare Henry for tomorrow, okay? Bring him up then. I think I just need this night to myself. So I'm going up to the Hamptons house alone."

"Alone? In that big house?"

Blair's husband Charles was standing at the top of the staircase, his hands in the pockets of his grey trousers. His waistcoat was unbuttoned; his red tie was loose around his white shirt's collar; and he had one impeccably shiny black shoe on and one shoe off. He was smiling down at her and she couldn't help from blushing.

"Yes," said Blair, throwing her black Christian Louboutin shoes off. "I just need a little break from everything. Just me and Serena."

"Just you and Serena?" he asked, as she breezed past him and went into their room. He closed the door behind him as he entered. "Are you sure she's going to be able to entertain you tonight? I mean, it _is _the night before her big pink party. She would probably be caught up with that. And when I was playing squash with Humphrey the other day, he said that she was pretty wound up about it."

Blair hadn't even known that he played squash with Humdrum Humphrey but she didn't bother to say anything other than, "Well, if she is, I'll help her and I'm sure we'll wrap it up in no time. I mean, nobody throws a party like Blair Waldorf."

"Bass," amended Chuck, coming up behind her and unzipping the back of her dress. "Waldorf-Bass."

She chuckled. "I'm sorry."

"I guess you're going to have to show me how sorry."

It was amazing how truthful the saying 'The more things change, the more they stay the same' was. Chuck—Charles—still had the magic touch which made her shudder and her knees buckle. He knew all the right spots and he certainly knew all the right things to do to make her enjoy their intimate time together.

Serena would have to wait.


	2. Serena

_Serena_

"…and the last question: how has married life been treating you, Mrs. Dan Humphrey?"

Serena couldn't help from chuckling and she self-consciously tucked some of her ash-blond hair behind an ear, exposing her feather earring. She uncrossed her legs and then crossed them at the ankles instead. She really didn't know how she was supposed to answer this question. Because married life was hard. And it had taken them so long to get married. Even though Dan was, undoubtedly, the love of her life, that didn't make it any easier to adjust to living with each other after maintaining a long distance relationship for such an extended period of time: five years.

"It's okay," said Serena to the _New York Magazine _editor, nodding her head and smiling that million-dollar smile that could now be seen for Waldorf Designs in every fashion magazine. She'd been the face of the company for the past four years. "It's an adjustment, I think, mixing your life with someone else's, but I think it's worth it."

"It sure is."

Serena looked over her shoulder. Dan was standing in the doorway to the vast living room of their Southampton house in a blue cashmere V-neck sweater and some old jeans. He was wearing Harry Potter-esque glasses that he'd probably gotten in LA and which he probably thought made him look cool. He'd recently cut all of his hair to the height that it was when they'd first started dating all the way back in high school, when she had just come back from boarding school to Constance Billard School for Girls and he was something of an outsider at St. Jude's School for Boys. Sometimes that felt like a lifetime ago.

"Mr. Humphrey," said the editor, Clarice Harper. She got up, her eyes lighting up on Serena's husband of almost a year. She flattened the front of her fire engine red dress and threw her chocolate brown hair over her shoulder. Serena wasn't sure, but had Clarice also pushed out her chest? "It's so nice to see you here. What an unexpected surprise. I didn't know you were here."

Serena hadn't known either. As far as she knew, he was supposed to come in tomorrow afternoon just in time for the pink party that she was supposed to be hosting to benefit breast cancer research. His suit hadn't even come back from the dry cleaner's yet. She'd sent her assistant Marlene to go get it while she ran a couple other errands in preparations for the party.

Dan had been in LA for most of the summer, leaving Serena to her own devices in New York. He had basically been out there assisting the executive producers and writing staff for his latest film _Under the Brooklyn Bridge_. This was his third movie in the past four years. Not to mention the fact that he'd turned out two books every year since he'd published _Inside_. Dan was becoming—no, he was a very successful writer and he'd earned millions from royalties. There was even a TV series based on _Inside_ that was still showing up to this day. If Serena had put on the television she was sure to see it—and her character 'Sabrina'—in some love triangle or another at that very moment.

"Hi, sweetie," said Serena, getting up and running over to her husband. He wrapped his arms around her. It was amazing how he knew the contours of her body so well. "Welcome home."

"You cut your hair," he said, running his fingers through her now shoulder-length hair.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course," he whispered. Then he softly pressed his lips against hers. "I love it. You're perfect."

Serena blushed. "No, I'm not. Stop saying that!"

"You are," he said. "And I missed my golden girl. You know I can't write a word without you. You're my Zelda Fitzgerald."

"Oh, Dan," she swooned.

Clarice cleared her throat behind Serena and the couple looked over at her, blushing at the fact that they'd all but forgotten that Serena had been doing an interview with her.

"I'm sorry," said Serena. "I just haven't seen him all summer. So I missed him a lot."

"Of course," said Clarice, picking up her black Marc Jacobs bag, which was on the floor next to the white wingback she was sitting on.

Everything in the Humphrey house was white, which meant that the cleaning staff always had a lot to do, what with Serena throwing dinner parties every other day. And little Henry was always at the house—she was his godmother—and children are always so messy.

"I understand. I think I got everything that I need for the article. Thank you so much, Serena. And I'll come tomorrow with the photographer to take pictures of the event." She got up and left the room, making sure to brush her considerable bosom against Dan's back as if the doorway wasn't huge enough for her to pass.

They heard the front door close and Dan and Serena couldn't help from laughing at the absurdity of the situation. He took Serena's hand and led her back into the living room, throwing himself down on the long, white sofa and pulling her on top of him. He squeezed her tight until she protested and flailed against him. And then he settled down, gently running his fingers through her hair.

These were the kinds of moments that she missed whenever Dan was away: these quiet intimate moments when they would sit down and just _be_. They Skyped everyday and texted and called each other constantly. But it wasn't the same as the tangible, real Dan. But this summer was the first time since last December when they'd gotten married that he'd been away from her. And even though she hadn't wanted him to leave, she let him go because very often producers changed up details about books when making them into films. At least Dan was able to maintain the integrity of his novel because he was one of the executive producers.

But that meant that she'd spent the summer all by herself. Yes, her friends came over all of the time. But they didn't sleep with her at night. Well, Blair had a couple times, the way they used to when they were kids. Blair was the only person—other than Dan—that Serena could ever be remotely vulnerable around. That was why she felt like it was okay to blubber like a fourteen-year-old who just found out that her crush didn't like her over how much she'd missed Dan. Blair had just hugged her and they stayed in Serena's room all day eating Ben and Jerry's and watching corny Lifetime movies on more than one Saturday or Sunday that summer.

Between Monday and Friday, Serena had to be all business. She had her own business—S+E—a fashion PR company she'd started with her brother Eric three years ago and she was a fashion blogger, an occasional model and, of course, a New York socialite. Everybody knew that if you wanted to push a party over the top, invite Serena Humphrey. She wasn't just known in New York circles, but she'd made friends with more than a few celebrities in her time. So you could expect to see her bring Miley Cyrus or Elle Fanning along with her to a party as her plus one because she knew everyone who was anyone.

"Serena, could you just confirm the guest list?" asked Lily van der Woodsen, waltzing into the living room. She had her glasses on the bridge of her nose, carefully scrutinizing what Serena assumed to be the guest list on her iPad. She raised her eyes for one second to scan the room and found Serena and her husband cuddled up on the sofa. "Serena, you have a party to plan. Hello, Daniel."

"Hi, Lily," he said, waving awkwardly. He'd never learnt that no matter how you did it, waving was always awkward. Serena couldn't help from just kissing him on the cheek right then, making him blush. She knew he hated the PDA in front of her mother but she couldn't resist.

"Serena, come on," said Lily, rolling her eyes. "You asked for my help and I'm helping. Let's go."

Serena groaned as she pulled herself up from the sofa and followed her mother outside of the house and into the wide expanse of a backyard, which was busy with tents being put up and tables being set up. Everything was pink, of course, and it was going to be absolutely beautiful, tasteful and classic.

Lily handed Serena the iPad as they sat down at a table near the swimming pool. She scanned the list: Tinsley Mortimer, Michelle Williams, Olivia Palermo, Fabiola Beracasa, Derek Blasberg, Julia Restoin-Roitfield, Anna Wintour, Beyonce and Jay-Z…the list went on. Everyone had already RSVP-ed.

"Taste the food, Serena."

She hadn't even noticed that there was a plate with Salmon Tartar, sea scallops and roasted cod in lemon-white wine sauce in front of her.

"Mom, I already tasted everything," protested Serena, rolling her eyes.

"And you just need to make sure that everything is to your specifications," said Lily, putting some cod into her mouth. After swallowing, she said, "You wouldn't want the standard to be below par for your party, darling. I'm just trying to help you."

Serena knew that her mother was the only person other than Blair that she would ask for party advice. One of New York's premier socialites, Lily had thrown endless parties in her time so Serena should have been glad that she was helping her out. But that didn't mean that she liked her mother's style of micromanaging. If the food sucked at the party, Serena was sure that she could just throw it out and order pizzas and all of her guests would just chalk it up to one of those Serena peculiarities that they had all stopped trying to decode.

"Serena, you're not planning on using those peonies for your party, right? That's so not hip. Roses, honey. Roses."

Serena jumped at the sound of her best friend's voice and she dropped her fork and ran over to Blair, enveloping her in a hug.

"I just thought about you a little while ago," said Serena.

"Ugh," said Blair, taking Serena's hand and squeezing it tight as Serena let her go. "Let's go over to my house and have some wine or something. I think I just need a girl's night."

"Sure," said Serena good-naturedly. She could use a girl's night. She'd been so caught up in all the party planning that she hadn't really been taking any time for herself. "I'll invite some of the other girls too. Like Raina and Georgina and Jenny and see if they want to come along."

Blair scowled. "Just you and me, Serena. If I wanted to throw a party, I would have done it myself. And Georgina definitely wouldn't be on the guest list."

Serena laughed. Blair still wasn't really supportive of the fact that Georgina had married her husband's Uncle Jack.

"Blair. Nice to see you," said Dan, coming outside and smiling over at Blair. "How's Chuck?"

"_Charles_ is fine," said Blair. "He told me you two played squash the other day. Somehow I never pegged you for a sport aficionado, Humph—Dan."

"I'm not," said Dan, "but everyone in LA is hyper fit so I had to get into something to keep up. _Charles_ sent me an email telling me that he was looking at some real estate on the West Coast and he wanted to go get a drink or something. I remembered that he liked squash so I decided to ask him to come meet me for a game."

Serena had to hold in a laugh because Blair was watching Dan with the most vacant expression on her face, as if she didn't care for that extended diatribe Dan had just made. Blair had once called that period in time in which she'd dated Dan 'temporary insanity' because, as nice as he was, he wasn't the kind of guy that she was supposed to end up with. She made it clear that nothing was wrong with him and that he was perfectly good for Serena. But he was totally wrong for her. Over the years Blair had come to forgive Dan for the whole being Gossip Girl thing but she wasn't completely over it. Not just yet.

"I'll go get my stuff and I'll meet you out front," said Serena.

Blair slid past Dan.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dan said, "But it's my first night back. I was hoping to spend it with you."

This presented a conundrum for Serena. Spending the night with the husband that she hadn't seen for three months or spending the night with her best friend, who looked like she really needed it.

"I promise we'll spend all of Sunday together," she purred, leaning into him and placing his hands on her hips. "_All _day and_ all _night."

Dan smiled at the prospect. "Deal."


	3. Nate

_Nate_

"We have to stop this. It isn't fair to Jenny."

Nate Archibald looked over at Sage Spence, who was laying on her side on the king-sized bed of their bed-and-breakfast room in upstate New York. She was looking at him, her dark eyes unblinking. She was so beautiful. He couldn't stop himself from running his hand against her cheek as he saw her eyes start to water. He wouldn't be able to take it if she'd started crying. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from holding her and telling her to disregard what he'd just said. That he was confused. That he was just playing with her head.

So, instead, he got up and pulled his boxers on. He had to get down to the Hamptons soon for Serena's pink party. It was already nine o' clock. And he had to drop Sage off at her apartment in Midtown and then head down to his beach house on Westhampton Beach, where Jenny would probably be waiting for him, looking as beautiful as ever, to go to the pink party.

"Nate," said Sage.

He turned around and she'd thrown the sheets off of her body: she was as naked as she was born. She got up on her knees on the bed and she wrapped her arms around him.

"Nate, we can't stop this," she said. "It's you and me. It's us."

He forced himself away from her and went into the bathroom of the cozy room to brush his teeth. He really needed to stop allowing himself to get swept away by his feelings for Sage. He was with Jenny now. And he was happy with her. But there was always that…unresolved je ne sais quoi about his relationship with Sage. It had only ended because she had decided that she wanted to go to college in London and they didn't think that they could make the long distance thing work.

But that only meant that everything was unresolved.

But now she was back and she'd gotten her degree in journalism. She'd waltzed into the office of _The Spectator _in July saying that she had spent a year working in England and now it was time to come home. And she wanted to work there now. How she only wanted to work with the best and that was what Nate's paper was: the best in New York. And with her talents, she could make it even better. She would chase after all the big stories.

He'd accidentally on purpose forgotten to mention to Jenny that Sage had started working at the magazine because he felt like all it would do was make her feel uncomfortable over something that was only going to be a professional relationship.

Which quickly turned into a personal relationship.

He had been editing the paper late one evening and Sage had burst in, confessing to never having been over him and missing him and that she'd really only come to New York to be with him. The easy thing to say would have been that she'd seduced him but that wouldn't have been completely honest. He'd seen her around the office, in her short, tight dresses and her sky-high stilettos. She was a regulation hottie. A beauty. And he'd secretly been admiring that beauty. But he'd been fighting the urge not to kidnap her and take her back to his apartment.

But he couldn't control himself that evening. He enjoyed it more than he should have. And since then, they'd been secretly hooking up—at her apartment, at the Plaza, at motels in the Tristate area—and he'd just allowed things to happen.

It had to end.

He took a quick shower and when he came out, Sage was still sitting on the bed, looking completely depressed.

"So, what, Nate? Was this all a mistake?" she asked.

"I never said that," he said. "And don't ever think that."

There was a moment of silence.

"What does she have that I don't?"

Nate didn't know how he was supposed to respond to that. She was Jenny Humphrey and he'd always liked her. He'd done a lot of dating since Blair Waldorf back in high school: Serena van der Woodsen, Raina Thorpe, Bree Buckley…and the list went on. But Jenny had always been someone special to him. He sort of always felt like she had been the one who had gotten away. He had never really been able to give a relationship with Jenny a real, one hundred percent chance. And so far, things were going perfectly.

People often say that you don't cheat on someone if you're completely happy with them. That couldn't have been further from the truth of what his relationship with Jenny was like. She was worldly and sophisticated. Talented and visionary. Everything was like water off a duck's back for Jenny. Even the Van der Bilt side of his family had fallen in love with her from the moment she'd been introduced to them over Christmas two years earlier. She'd dazzled Nate's grandfather with all of her stories about gallivanting through Europe with her best friend Eric van der Woodsen; her summer in Dubai with him; that time they'd gone to Austrailia for two weeks in the middle of the semester.

Nate's mother had especially liked Jenny for her impeccable style and grace and Nate's father was totally supportive of the relationship too, having thought Jenny and Nate the perfect Upper East Side couple.

Now they were engaged and they were supposed to be having their fairytale wedding next June.

"Nothing," he said, walking over to her. "Nothing. I love you both. But…she's my fiancée. And you knew I was with her when…everything happened."

She scowled at him. "You knew too."

He was surprised by that. There was a hint of…rage? Was that rage in her tone? Almost threatening.

"Sage, I think you need to get dressed," he suggested, drying his skin with a towel.

"You can get dressed," she said, lying down on the bed. "I'm in no hurry. You're the one who has to go to the pink party."

"We're not leaving together?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Whatever, Nate."

Nate walked up the staircase of his house. He had a lot to tell Jenny. He'd done a lot of thinking on the drive to the Hamptons and he'd decided that he was not going to bother to run for the position of Mayor of New York. Yes, his grandfather had been pumping commercials out like it was nobody's business, but it was never too late to drop out. The actual election wasn't until the twenty-first of September. He was going to devote whatever time he had free from the paper to Jenny. She deserved that. And he was going to be completely honest about his relationship with Sage too. Tell her all about it. Tell her how much he was sorry about what he'd done to her.

He could hear her moving in the master bedroom of the house.

"Jen?" he called.

"Nate!" she squealed, opening the door. "We're going to be super late!"

She looked positively divine in a figure-hugging, knee-length pink dress that was probably one of her Waldorf designs. It exposed her perfectly toned arms (she'd picked up tennis over the summer and it was paying off). She was putting some diamond studs into her ears and then she turned her back to him.

"Zip me up?" she asked.

He walked over to her and zipped up her dress. She turned back to him and kissed him softly on the cheek before heading further into the cavernous bedroom.

"I swear, Nate, that I love this pink suit for you," she said. "I made it myself. This shade of pink is just perfect for your skin tone. Anyway, how was your trip to Boston?"

Nate cleared his throat. "Jenny, there's something I need to tell you."

She opened up her shoe closet and pulled out a pair of white shoes. Then she walked over to the bed to put them on. Nate wasn't sure that she was listening to him. But hopefully the next thing he said would get her attention.

"I've decided that I'm not going to bother to run for mayor."

She chuckled. "Why would you decide that?"

"Because I've been having an affair with Sage Spence for the past few months and I think, if I'm to ever earn back your trust, I need to be one hundred percent devoted to you. And those mayoral duties would be a distraction." He paused. "I'm so sorry, Jenny."

She just stared at him, as if she was just seeing him since he'd come into the room. He felt uncomfortable so he started pacing. This went on for a good two minutes until he said, "Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

"Wouldn't that be a scandal if Sage said anything."

It was structured like a question but Nate knew it was a statement.

"Nate, go get dressed for the party," she said. "I put out a nice, white Oxford shirt and a really pretty paisley tie that would look really good. I even got your shoes shined."

"Jenny," he said, taking a step towards her, "aren't we going to discuss this? Forget the party. We already contributed to the foundation. We don't have to go."

"But I want to," she said. "And this isn't news to me."

"This isn't news?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"Nate, me and my brother were Gossip Girl for years," she said. "My sleuthing abilities are somewhat above average, I think."

"But…if you always knew, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because we all make mistakes," she said, getting up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and then kissed him on the lips. "Nate, you're one of the good guys. And I knew you would tell me eventually. How many trips does one guy have to take for his company?" She chuckled again. "Wasn't hard for me to figure out."

"I don't understand, Jenny."

"Nate, I love you. And I love our life together. And I love the life that we're going to build together." She flashed him the twenty-point-five carat engagement ring that he'd given to her when they'd spent Christmas together in Barbados last year. They had just finished dinner and they were walking along the beach and he pulled out the ring. She'd all but jumped his bones on the beach that night. "I'm not going to allow…Sage Spence to get in between us. Girls like Sage are a dime a dozen."

"And girls like you?" he asked.

"We're like trying to find hay in a needle stack," she said, with a wry smile on her beautiful face. "But you lucked out, Archibald."

Nate had never loved anyone as much as he loved Jenny right then. She certainly was the kind of woman that he'd always dreamed about and she never ceased to amaze him: she always had an ace up her sleeve.

"What are we going to do about Sage, though?" she asked.

"She won't say anything," he said. "She cares about me too much to want to ruin things for me."

"Hmm," responded Jenny.

Nate hugged her tight and then got out of his clothes to switch into the outfit that she'd picked out for him. So he went into his dressing room, where everything was laid out for him. Jenny was just the right amount of Martha Stewart and just the right amount of Kris Jenner: she was the perfect housewife but she could also be rigorous at her job.

He couldn't wait to marry her.


	4. Dan

_Dan_

Dan Humphrey smiled and waved at all of the guests that had come out to support Serena's cause as they entered the backyard of his Hamptons house, all the while his hand on the small of his darling Serena's back. She was positively glowing in a pink Grecian-styled dressed and she'd waved her perfect, sparkling hair. As expected, Serena didn't have to draw on an entirely different face: she was more beautiful than most Hollywood actresses, most Victoria's Secret models and most beauty queens. He had no doubt in his mind that had Serena decided to get into any one of those fields, no one would have been able to keep up with her.

He was glad that he'd decided to come to her party because he knew how much it meant to her that he was there to support her. He didn't mind. It was for Serena and Serena was his everything. She'd always been his everything, for as long as he could remember. He'd deviated from that once or twice but, really and truly, no one had ever pierced his heart in the way Serena had. It was almost surreal that he'd ended up with her.

But, of course, it had meant that he'd had to reinvent himself in a lot of ways in order to catch a girl like her.

"You look quite spiffy," said Dan's father-in-law, William van der Woodsen, sidling over to Dan and Serena with Lily on his arm. Much like Dan, he'd opted to wear a white suit with a pink shirt and darker pink tie.

"Thanks, William," said Dan, nodding his head.

"Serena, darling," said Lily, kissing her daughter on both cheeks. "Daniel." She extended her left hand, which Dan felt obliged to take and kiss. He narrowly avoided the ridiculously large diamond engagement ring and platinum wedding band that she had on her finger from her husband, William. They'd been married for about three years now.

"Enjoy the party," said Serena, before kissing her dad on the cheek and allowing her parents to walk away. She turned to Dan and said, "I'm so glad everything is going so well!"

"Mr. Humphrey!"

Dan kissed Serena on the cheek and went into the house, following the voice of one of the wait staff. Sure enough, he found Magda, their maid, holding the phone up for him. She waved it at him before putting it down on a table and walking away.

"Hello?" said Dan, into the receiver.

"Humphrey, I've been calling you on your cell for a little while now!"

It was Sebastian, one of the other executive producers for his latest film.

"I forgot my phone in my room," said Dan.

"It doesn't matter. Where the hell is your house in the Hamptons? I checked GoogleMaps but I just want to make sure that I'm at the right place. Because it seems like there are a lot of people coming in and out of this joint."

"In pink?"

"That'll be correct."

"You've found the right place."

Dan hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He'd forgotten that Sebastian was in New York this weekend and that they'd made arrangements for Dan to meet the person that was supposed to be directing the new movie. Of course, before Dan had come to his house that morning, he was supposed to have breakfast with Sebastian and the director. But he or she had called Sebastian to tell him that the flight had been delayed so they would all have to meet up later.

He hadn't explained to Sebastian that he was going to be hosting a party with his wife but he hadn't expected him to bring the director directly to his house either.

Dan walked out to the front of the house, where a black Lincoln Town Car was just pulling up.

Portly Sebastian Rosenbaum opened the door himself and came out. He was wearing a red Ralph Lauren polo that he'd tucked into long khakis and he was wiping his brow with a handkerchief. His hair was thinning and Dan always wondered why Sebastian had never invested in Bosley or something. They'd worked together on every film (and TV show) thus far and Dan considered them to be friends. But he didn't think that they were friendly enough for Dan to suggest something like Bosley.

"Sebastian," said Dan, walking down the staircase and shaking his friend's hand. "Welcome to the Hamptons."

"It's hot as hell, Humphrey," complained Sebastian. "And I just stepped out of an air conditioned car!"

Dan wasn't about to apologize for the weather so, in way of response, he just smiled instead.

"Anyway, I'd like you to meet the new director," said Sebastian.

She slid out from the backseat of the town car, her long, wavy, dark hair falling in tumbles down her back. It looked as if she hadn't cut it in years. She was wearing a clean, white, peasant dress with no sleeves which cut to her knees and a pair of knee-high, black, leather boots. She had a red, very-20's cloche hat on her head. She was positively gorgeous.

And she looked almost exactly as he'd remembered.

"Vanessa Abrams?"

"In the flesh," she said, shrugging. She pulled her brown satchel from in the car and slung it across her body. "How've you been, Dan? Clearly you've been doing well for yourself." She looked up at the house behind him and he immediately felt self-conscious.

They were both a long way from Brooklyn.

"Why didn't you tell me it was Vanessa Abrams you wanted to direct the movie?" spat Dan, in Sebastian's general direction.

"Because I asked him not to," she responded.

Dan turned back to her, his eyes blank and his face expressionless. He hadn't seen her in years: not since he'd yelled at her about his life having been better before she'd crawled into his apartment through the fire escape years before that. Sometimes he would find himself thinking about Vanessa, and silently thanking her. Because if she hadn't gone against his wishes by having his manuscript published, he probably never would have done it himself. And he never would have considered reinventing himself. And he never would have gotten Serena.

"Vanessa," he whispered. He opened his arms and she fell in, wrapping her arms around him. When she pulled away he said, "Let's go inside. Talk everything over."

He led them into the house and up to his study on the second floor, where he sat down behind his glass desk and they sat down in the wingbacks before him. He couldn't help from beaming from ear to ear.

Though he'd never mentioned it to anyone, he'd always missed Vanessa. She understood him in a way that Nate or Serena or any of his other friends never could. She had known him when he was just Dan Humphrey, before he'd made himself into 'Lonely Boy' when he'd posed as Gossip Girl; before he'd gotten involved with Serena; before he'd become so ingratiated into the Upper East Side.

"So," said Vanessa, "guess I'm the new director."

"Vanessa is one of the brightest stars in Hollywood," said Sebastian. "They say she's the new Cameron Crowe. She's been making waves at all the film festivals and in Europe and she's an indie darling. Me and Bill think that she could give the movie that creative edge it might need to push it over the top and give it that Oscar buzz."

"I read your script," said Vanessa, twirling some of her hair around a finger. "It's really good. I'd like to make some minor changes, if you don't mind."

Dan arched an eyebrow. Minor changes? He'd gone to great lengths to ensure that the film was going to be at least true to his book.

"What type of changes?" he asked.

"Nothing major," she said, waving her hands. "I wouldn't want to mess with the integrity of the script, Dan. Just some things I'd like to discuss with you. I don't do anything half-assed, Dan, and you know it."

"Or at least he should," said Sebastian. "Dan, her films are poignant and wonderful and so creative. I want her involved in everything. I want her involved in casting and editing and everything. Bill and I both do." He folded his arms.

Dan understood what Sebastian was trying to say: that they had him two to one. And they wanted Vanessa to be able to do whatever she wanted with the movie. Dan didn't mind. He'd always had faith in Vanessa and her creative vision.

After talking shop for a little bit, Dan reminded them that he was hosting a party and that it would look bad that he'd left his wife all by herself.

"Serena, right?" said Vanessa, as she pulled herself up from her chair. "You finally did it, Dan."

"Vanessa, what have you been up to?" he asked, leading them out of his office. "I mean, are you seeing anyone?"

Vanessa chuckled, a deep chuckle, and she threw her cascades of dark hair over her shoulder. "Me? Nah. You got any single friends for me, though?"

"I don't think so," he said, wrapping his hand around her waist. "I wish you would stay for the party, though. You too Sebastian."

"It's a pink party," she said, putting her head on his shoulder. "We wouldn't want to ruin it for Serena. So I think now that we've met and we've done some chatting, me and Sebastian can leave. I think I'm just going to head up to Vermont to check my parents and then I'm gonna head back to LA."

"Wait," said Dan, "you live in LA?"

"Duh," she said, as their group arrived at the front door. "In West Hollywood."

"You're kidding," he said.

She dipped into her satchel and pulled out a business card, which she handed to him with a big, bright smile on her face.

"Call me," she said, "when you're in town. I'm assuming you're going to want to be a part of the casting process."

He hadn't wanted to be. But now that he knew that she was involved in the movie, he wanted to be involved in everything she was. The falling out that they'd had all those years ago was now water under the bridge. They were going to be working together and they were going to be best friends again.

Dan waved them off and then went back to the party.

"Where'd you go, silly?" said Serena, entwining her fingers with his as soon as he'd approached her.

"Just had to deal with some movie stuff," he said. Then he kissed her on the cheek.

But while he held on tight to Serena's warm, soft hand with his own, he couldn't help from feeling for the business card with his other hand.


	5. Jenny

_Jenny_

Jenny Humphrey pushed her chair away from her table, tossing her black, Chanel glasses onto the table as well. She rolled her chair to the plate glass window and looked out at the New York skyline: it was Monday night and almost midnight but the city was still so full of energy. But, instead, she was in the atelier of Waldorf Designs making final touches on some of the latest pieces. Everyone else had gone home. But, as Creative Director of Waldorf Designs, it was her job to carry the extra burden.

But she was distracted.

She had been distracted ever since Nate had told her that he had been cheating on her with Sage Spence. She had lied. She had lied and told him that she had known about his cheating. In reality, she hadn't known a thing. She had never expected something like that from Nate in her wildest dreams. He was so good to her. So kind and considerate. And she had only been kind to him in return. She loved him. And she knew he loved her too.

But what was it about Sage that he couldn't get away from? He rarely ever spoke about her—and they were very open, so they had spoken about all of their exes—and when he did, he always spoke in monosyllables. She knew he had obviously never gotten over Sage.

Saturday night, after the Pink Party, Jenny told her fiancée that she had a big brunch early on Sunday morning so she should probably go home to her apartment in New York instead of back to Nate's house. The driver dropped a very disappointed Nate off first and then took her back to the City. She had spent all evening gushing with Serena and Raina and some of the other women at the party about how wonderful things were going with Nate when all she really wanted to do was shove his face into the Humphreys' pool and see how long it would take for air bubbles to stop coming up.

He had called earlier that day, asking her if she was coming to his townhouse on the Upper East Side or whether she was going back to her place after work. She had said that she was heading into a meeting so she would have to call him back. She never did. She couldn't face him. At least not yet.

Jenny picked up her things and headed downstairs. The security guard smiled at her and hailed her a cab. She was entitled to a Lincoln Town Car, of course, but her hours were always so unpredictable. She didn't want to inconvenience the car service if she didn't have to.

She had the cab driver drop her off at a Chinese restaurant around the corner from her apartment building, 245 East 73rd Street, between Park and Madison. She loved her apartment. She remembered when she announced to her Dad that she no longer needed to live in his loft in Brooklyn anymore. Nothing was wrong with it, per se, but she couldn't handle hearing him and his girlfriend, Lisa Loeb, giggling like sixteen year olds or running into her father naked in the hallway in the middle of the night. He deserved his freedom.

And she deserved her own space.

She'd scoured the internet and the newspapers alike and felt so lucky to discover this perfect, studio apartment in a brownstone on the Upper East Side. The rent was five thousand dollars—which was a significant chunk of her salary when she'd just started at Badgley Mischka—but there wasn't a price she could place on her peace of mind. And it was just closer to everything since it was in Manhattan: all of the trendy restaurants and museums and stores that she liked. And it was just a few blocks away from Dan and Serena's apartment as well.

When she went inside and changed her clothes into a t-shirt and some sweatpants, she just threw herself on her California king-sized bed and put on the TV. She didn't know exactly what she was going to watch so she was just flipping through channels.

Jenny had settled on HBO with a box of Singapore noodles when her phone rang.

"Hello?" she said into the receiver of her cordless phone.

"Miss Humphrey, this is Cedric at the front desk," said the doorman. "There's a Sage Spence here to see you."

Jenny spat out her noodles. "Who?"

"Just as I thought," said Cedric. "I'll send her on her way."

"No! Wait!" she yelped. "Send her up."

"No problem, Miss Humphrey," he said. She could almost hear the eye roll. "I'll send her up immediately."

Jenny ran into the bathroom and looked at herself through the mirror, wondering how one was supposed to look when one was meeting the slut who was sleeping with one's fiancée. Maybe the ratty, old t-shirt and the pink Juicy sweats weren't exactly appropriate. But, then again, she was Jenny Humphrey: Creative Director of Waldorf Designs. Who was Sage Spence anyway?

All Jenny did was lightly tousle her short, blonde hair and apply a little bit of lip gloss. And then she heard a knock on the door.

She went out, took a breath, and then opened it.

She had remembered seeing her at Constance Billard, back when Jenny was a student there, before she had gone off to boarding school. Sage was only two years younger than Jenny herself. But Jenny was what would colloquially be called a social climber back then so she didn't care that much for people younger than she was. Especially when she had risen to the rank of Queen Bee of Constance.

Sage was very, very beautiful. She was just as thin as some of those models in _Vogue_, _Elle_ and _Marie Claire_. Sage had that naturally olive complexion that no amount of tanning could have given Jenny.

She was waiflike but there was still very much a presence about Sage, who was wearing a white suit made of tweed: there was a zip at the front of the jacket and zips on both sleeves, which cut just a few inches above her slender wrist; the skirt cut just above her knees as well. To complement the outfit, Sage had coupled it with a pair of nude Christian Louboutin pumps and a beige vintage Gucci bag that was elegantly perched on her elbow. Her dark-brown hair was swept up into a messy bun, silken tendrils rimming her blemish-free face.

Jenny felt underdressed in her own apartment.

Sage swept past her—with a slight glance of general disdain at Jenny—and then sat down on a 19th century rosewood settee that had been a gift from Eleanor Waldorf. She crossed her legs at the ankle and then pulled out her BlackBerry from her $1200 tote and then quickly responded to an email.

Jenny sat down on a rosewood wingback, folding her legs up to her chest.

When Sage was done, she said, "Sorry about that. Big story. You know I work at _The New York Spectator_, right? With your fiancée?"

Jenny didn't know that. But she just raised her eyebrows in response.

"Yeah, I do," continued Sage. "Nate gave me that job." She couldn't help from cracking a smile at this particular jab at Jenny but it faded when she realized Jenny's expression was still very blank. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that Nate and I have been having an affair. I just wanted you to hear it from me instead of on some obscure blog on the internet."

"I'm aware," said Jenny. "Nate told me."

"Oh," said Sage. "No wonder he's been, like, ignoring me all day."

Jenny was glad to hear that Nate was doing this.

"Whatever," said Sage, with a lighthearted shrug of her willowy shoulders. "Here's the deal, Jenny: I'm pregnant. And it's definitely Nate's. We've been seeing each other for a while now. So this is what I think can get done now: you can bow out gracefully now and say that things haven't been working out with him. After about a month, Nate can say he's officially dating me. And then we'll announce that we're pregnant."

They stared at each other for two minutes straight, neither of them moving a muscle.

Then Jenny said, "That won't do. I'm going to be the mayor's wife, Sage Spence."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" spat Sage.

"We're just going to have to spin it," continued Jenny. "I'll speak to the campaign manager. And to Nate's grandfather. They'll find a way to spin this."

Sage huffed and then gathered her things, wordlessly leaving the apartment and leaving the front door open. Jenny, who was still cuddled up in her seat, took about five minutes before she got up and closed it. Then she threw on a black Waldorf jacket and a pair of Chloe flats, picked up her cell phone and her electric blue Michael Kors clutch and headed out of the apartment.

The doorman offered to hail her a cab but she told him that she needed some air so she would be taking a walk instead. She needed to see Nate. She needed to talk to him about this. She needed to hit him. She needed to cry. She needed him to hold her. She needed to tell him about what Sage was planning. She needed to discuss a way to explain this to the media. Being Mayor of New York was something that Nate had been planning for some years now. And she had been by his side for a lot of it.

One indiscretion didn't warrant giving up his dream. She wouldn't let him.

Nate's imposing, ivy-covered, five-storey townhouse—she called it Archibald Manor—was one of those perfect New York anomalies. And it just made her love him more. Every time she came to Archibald Manor she felt like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice just after she had visited Pemberley: just like Elizabeth loved Darcy, she too loved Nate. But seeing his 11,296 square foot townhouse just off Fifth Avenue didn't make her love him any less. She could see herself living there with him.

She rapped on the front door and the housekeeper, Maria, came out. She looked Jenny up and down. Jenny knew that she wasn't looking like her put-together self. But she didn't care.

"Is Nate home?" asked Jenny, in a tiny, little voice.

"He's upstairs," said Maria, in her thick, Spanish accent. "Come, come."

Maria led her up to Nate's bedroom, her flats padding against the marble floors, and then Maria left her at the door. She rapped on it a few times but didn't get a response. After about three minutes of this, she opened the door for herself and went in.

Nate was huddled on the window seat of his cavernous room, looking down at the cars streaming past his house. In that moment, he looked all of thirteen years old in his pajama pants and white wife beater. He looked like a very tragic, forlorn prince. And she loved him. He was her prince.

"Nate?" she barely whispered.

But through the deafening silence of the room, he heard her. And he turned to her.

"I'm sorry, Jenny," he said. "I'm so sorry."

Jenny felt one tear stream down her cheek but she quickly wiped it away and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Sage…" He trailed off.

"She told me," said Jenny. "I know."

"I haven't called Grandfather yet," he said. "He'll rip me to shreds. An affair? I was cheating on my perfect, Page Six fiancée?"

Jenny bit her bottom lip. It was true: it didn't look good at all. But they would just have to find a way to make the story seem more palatable.

"What about if we say that we were on a break because we had some things to reevaluate and that's when you met Sage," said Jenny. "It could work."

"I doubt that, Miss Humphrey."

Jenny looked over her shoulder and saw Nate's Grandfather William standing there, his hands in the pockets of his khakis. He was wearing a royal blue polo. He scowled at Nate in general but his expression warmed when he laid eyes on Jenny.

"I don't want my child to be born out of a lie," said Sage, who walked around Mr. Van der Bilt. She sat down on Nate's bed, crossing her legs in that dainty way of hers, a smirk on her mischievous face. "It's either you tell the truth or I take my story to the Huffington Post. And I have friends over there. They'll publish that before you can say Jack Robinson."

Jenny just wanted to strangle the little bitch. It would make her feel better but it wouldn't solve anything. In fact, it might make things worse. Because then Nate would be engaged to a convict.

"Yes," said Mr. Van der Bilt, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. "Sage has been rather difficult in this department. She insists on being acknowledged. She doesn't want to…"

"To go away is what you're looking for, Mr. Van der Bilt," said Sage. "You tried to slip me a check. But I'm not one to be bought."

"So here's what we're going to do," said Mr. Van der Bilt. "We're going to have to play this smart. Nate, Sage isn't asking much of you. Or you, Jenny. She seems intent on getting her chance. She says all she wants is a year with him. If they don't bond while she's pregnant or when the baby is born, you can leave her for Jenny. But she wants a fair chance."

"Grandfather, this is ridiculous," said Nate, snapping back to reality. He took Jenny's hand and squeezed it tight. "I won't do this to Jenny."

"Nate, the election is a few weeks away," said Jenny. She slipped her hand out of Nate's. "This can destroy you. We'll just say that we broke up. You'll date Sage. Announce that you're pregnant."

"But this is the twenty-first century," said Sage, beaming from air to air. "So no one will expect you to marry me or anything. But we can give it a go."

"Naturally," added Mr. Van der Bilt, "she's going to have to move in with you after she announces that she's pregnant. To make you look sympathetic. You'll be mayor then."

Nate listened while Sage and Mr. Van der Bilt droned on and on about the future but his eyes were focused on Jenny, who was feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. He needed to pay attention to what was being said to him.

She pulled herself away from him and got up. Three pairs of eyes were now on her but she didn't care. She just picked up her things and left. How could this happen? How could everything have changed so much in a matter of a few days? Her own, perfect relationship unraveled.

It was going to be a media circus.

But this was Nate's future. And she loved him more than she loved herself. She was willing to do this for him. She'd give Sage this year that she wanted. But she knew that Sage and Nate wouldn't work. Sage was a monster. She was rude and pushy and she didn't have a selfless bone in her body.

They wouldn't work.

She could manage a year.

Jenny left her engagement ring on a table in the foyer and lightly closed the door behind her.


	6. Chuck

_Chuck_

Tuesday morning Chuck sat down behind his desk and leaned back, twirling his little pen in his fingers. He sighed dramatically and then placed the pen back on the table. How things had progressed—or digressed—so rapidly at Bass Industries was astounding. Jack had been trying to angle himself into the CEO position of the company for years now. And for the first time, Chuck was beginning to think that maybe it would have been a good idea.

After all, Jack had resuscitated the Australian, European and Asian markets at Chuck's behest and they were somehow staying afloat but not exactly profitable. All Chuck had to do was handle the North American market and it was a sinking ship so he often wondered what magic Jack had been using.

He'd always felt like he had some talent to run Bass Industries but he was feeling a bit conflicted about it for a long time. Maybe he should hand over the reins.

But now he had a plan.

At that moment, Chuck's Uncle Jack came into the office with a binder in his hands, looking rather suave in his charcoal Tom Ford suit not unlike Chuck's navy blue one, his hair slicked away from his face, not unlike Chuck's own hair. He assumed a seat on a black, leather wingback on the other side of the table from Chuck and flipped through the binder, licking his thumb with every page-turn. His eyebrows were furrowed but there was the hint of smile on his devilish little face.

This went on for about five minutes until Chuck cleared his throat.

"Oh, I'm just waiting for Lily," said Jack.

Five more minutes passed and then Chuck's assistant, Celeste, opened the doors and Lily (who Chuck had actually been expecting) swept in wearing a silver satin, two piece suit and oversized Prada cat-eye glasses on her face. Her hair was swept up into a neat, tight bun at the stem of her neck. Lily placed her grey Birkin bag on the wingback next to Jack and then went over to the other side of the table and wrapped her arms around Chuck.

He felt so protected that it wasn't even funny.

It had taken him some time but he had fallen in love with Lily, in the way a son loves his mother. She was the closest thing to a mother that he had actually had all his life after dealing with a revolving door of nannies. And his real mother, Elizabeth Fisher, had denied him. He and Elizabeth hadn't seen each other in years, not since she'd lied and said that she wasn't his mother. Chuck and Jack had spoken over the past few years and Jack had confessed about it. Chuck still didn't care to know where she was anyway.

After Lily kissed him on both cheeks, she went back to the other side of the table—where she scowled at Jack—and sat down, placing her bag on the floor.

"Now," started Lily, "let's have ourselves a little chat. What can I do for you, my darling boy?"

"Chuck, my darling nephew," started Jack, "I've noticed that Bass Industries has been going through some hard times. Financially, that is. Is that what this is about?"

"Yes, Charles," said Lily, putting her sunglasses on the crown of her head of golden hair. "It did rather badly last quarter."

"I'm aware," said Chuck. "And I'm dealing with it."

"Charles, you know I have the utmost faith in you," continued Lily, "but I'm just here representing the Board of Directors."

"And why, pray tell, are _you_ here?" asked Chuck, folding his arms over his chest and arching his eyebrow at his uncle.

"Oh, this is just for me," said Jack. "A little birdie told me about this little clandestine meeting between you and Madame Chairwoman of the Board here. So I just wanted to be here."

"In case they were firing me," said Chuck. "Which they can't. Since I own fifty-one percent."

It was simple Math: Chuck still owned fifty-one percent of the company; Lily's twenty percent had remained the same; Jack owned five; and the next twenty-four was owned by the Board of Directors. Lily had a business mind but she wasn't all that concerned about the happenings at Bass Industries because she trusted Chuck and Jack to run it properly. But somehow she had managed to be voted into the position of Chairwoman of the Board since she was so close to the Chief Executive Officer anyway.

"Charles, what's this meeting about?" asked Lily.

"I've…made some decisions," said Chuck, rather slowly. "I've decided to sell some of my shares of the company."

"You _what_?" yelped Lily, literally clutching the pearls on her princess length necklace. "Charles, then you won't be majority shareholder anymore."

"I'll buy your shares," offered Jack, folding his legs. "Willingly. How much are you willing to sell them for?"

"That won't be necessary," said Chuck, waving his hand in his uncle's direction. "I've already found some buyers." Chuck picked up his phone and told his secretary to make the call.

"I don't understand," said Lily. "How many shares are you looking at?"

"Nineteen percent," he said. "Lily, we need the cash right now in order to move forward. And I'll still own thirty-two percent. You own twenty, Lily, and you trust me. So we'll have majority control of the company."

"So you'd rather sell your shares to some strangers than to me? Your good, old Uncle Jack?"

"Old, sure," said Chuck. "Good…That's a bit of a stretch. Even _you _must know that."

Jack chuckled and Lily rolled her eyes and opened her handbag, pulling out her BlackBerry and quickly sending out an email to the other members of the board.

Chuck's assistant let in the first of the investors: Raina Thorpe.

Raina was wearing a rose-colored Alice + Olivia shift dress that contrasted so perfectly with her chocolate-brown skin that it was stunning to look at. Her raven hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, the tail itself hanging over her right shoulder. She was wearing leather, sky-high, white Giuseppe Zanotti sandals and on the crook of her elbow was a pink, leather Prada tote.

She kissed Lily on both cheeks, shook hands with Jack and then said, "Hi, Chuck," before sitting down on a third chair, the one right next to Lily.

"You know you have my full support," said Raina. "I have negative interest in trying to steal your company. Just making some prudent investments."

"What about Daddy's company?" asked Jack.

"I gave up my shares there," she said. "Took the money and gave it to charity too. This money that I have now is an inheritance from my mother. Essentially, it's clean money. My Dad can do whatever he wants with his company. I want no part of him."

"Good for you," said Lily, placing her hand on Raina's.

"Raina is taking nine percent," said Chuck.

"Oh, so the other ten is up for grabs?" asked Jack eagerly.

"I'm afraid not."

Everyone looked around to see a rather tall, handsome young man of maybe about twenty-eight standing there in a perfectly tailored, champagne-colored Brionni suit with a crisp, white Oxford shirt on the inside. His golden brown hair was parted at the side and not a strand of it was out of place. He had piercing, chocolate brown eyes, a long, straight nose and full, kissable lips that Chuck was sure made all the girls—and maybe more than a few guys—swoon. He had a supple, honey complexion that was so unnatural that it could only be natural.

His hands were in the pockets of his suit as he made his way across the room, the heels of his patent leather, Paul Smith shoes clicking against the hardwood floors of Chuck's office. He sat down in the last empty chair, the one next to Raina's, and he unbuttoned his jacket as he did.

"This is a friend that I made in Los Angeles," said Chuck. "Cristobal Marquez del Rey."

"That was why you'd gone there," said Lily. "I thought you were looking at some real estate."

"I was," said Chuck. "And looking for some buyers."

"When I had heard word that Mr. Bass was looking to sell some shares, I contacted him immediately," said Cris.

"You heard word on the street?" asked Jack. "And I didn't?"

"It was all on a need-to-know basis," said Chuck.

"And you obviously didn't need to know," said Lily, even though she hadn't known either.

After the formalities were completed—signatures made and checks given—they all parted ways. Raina said she had an important meeting at the Met because she had been nominated to join the Board of Trustees. Lily said that she and her husband, William, were supposed to be on a plane that was Los Angeles-bound, to visit his brother Keith and her father in Malibu, Rick. Jack was rather stunned by the entire meeting and stormed out of the office cursing under his breath.

When Raina, Lily and Jack were gone, Chuck had expected Cris to leave too. But, instead, he was still sitting in the chair.

"So I'm sure you've been to New York before, Cris," said Chuck, going onto his computer and checking some emails. "Is the suite at The Empire nice enough for you?"

"It is," he said. "And I _have _been to New York a handful of times. But I'm a Californian at heart. I don't think that there are many places that are more chill than LA."

"Very true," said Chuck, who had spent time in California before. "It's very nice there."

"I also came across an interesting apartment for sale," continued Cris, rising and buttoning his jacket. He swept away some invisible lint from his perfect suit. "1136 Fifth Avenue? I think you're familiar with it."

"Yes," said Chuck. "I am. It's my wife's apartment building. Well, where she grew up. She lived in the penthouse."

"I had a real estate agent get me to see it," he said. "Very nice space, that penthouse."

"Look at you. You can't help from buying real estate, can you?" asked Chuck, giggling just a little. "It's just in our blood."

Cris came from a family that had settled in California for at least two hundred years. They were prominent landowners who had gathered more wealth thanks to the California gold rush which then turned them into real estate moguls. They were still wealthy up to now, owning a large amount of real estate not just in California but throughout the world.

Cris had contacted Chuck and said that he wanted to do something on his own: independent of his rather influential family. Chuck could understand, having been under the thumb of his father for most of his life. So he had been convinced to help him prove himself a man to his family, the way Chuck had tried to.

Chuck had immediately liked him from the moment they had met at The Grove in Los Angeles. Cris had taken him to the local Cheesecake Factory because, he claimed, it was the best in the whole state and it would put them in a good mood to talk shop. But almost as soon as Chuck put the first piece of cake in his mouth, Cris started in on why he should be the one to buy Chuck's shares. And he won him over. They spent the rest of Chuck's time in LA attending parties and hanging out at Cris's family's Brentwood estate. He had even introduced Cris to Dan, who had been in LA at the time.

"Oh, I'm not just buying it for buying it sake," said Cris. "I intend to move here."

"Really?" asked Chuck.

"I'd like to meet your wife, Chuck, so I can talk her into giving me that apartment," said Cris.

"Consider it yours," said Chuck, with a nonchalant wave of the hand. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind. You can just swing over at the house anytime. Have the real estate agent do the paperwork. But that duplex has about three bedrooms, Cris. Do you think you'll need so much space?"

"Yeah," said Cris. "For me, my brother, Angel, and my sister, Blanca."

"All of you are moving to New York?"

"Yes," said Cris. "Just for a change of scenery. LA is over."


	7. Raina

_Raina_

The silver Mercedes Benz breezed through Fairfield, Connecticut and Raina Thorpe wondered if the driver was maybe driving too fast. But she knew that he wasn't: her heart was probably beating too fast. She closed her eyes and told herself that she was sophisticated and elegant and beautiful and stylish and educated. Raina had graduated high school early and was at the top of her class at Princeton. She was worldly. She had a great deal more to recommend her than many other girls that she knew.

She could see that the car was approaching a gateway with a security guard reading a newspaper in a lily-white guard booth.

Raina's boyfriend wound down the window and flashed his perfect, winning smile in the direction of the guard.

"Mr. Baizen?" asked the guard, closing his paper shut, his jaw dropped.

"Hey, Larry," said Raina's perfect boyfriend, Carter. He put his hand out and Larry took it, pumping it vigorously. "We're here for Sunday brunch."

"Of course," said Larry, who pressed a button that caused the solid, steel gate to open in front of the car. "I'll see you later."

The car zoomed up the never-ending driveway that led all the way to the massive, grey-and-white house that Carter had grown up in. The house only had two stories but the length of it was mind-boggling: there were endless windows on each floor of the house. There were also long, white pillars descending from the second-floor terrace and ending on the wraparound porch, which was fully furnished with modern pieces of furniture.

Carter had informed her that the house had been in his family for generations: his family owned one of the oldest law firms in New York, Baizen Law, which now had offices all over the world, catapulting the Baizens to even more wealth. They had offices in London, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Australia, São Paulo, and Paris. He had commuted from Fairfield to St. Jude's School for Boys for his entire academic career until he had decided not to go to college and had been unceremoniously disinherited by his family.

He said he had always felt like he was a cut above a lot of his friends at St. Jude's because he had a proper house of his own growing up while they'd grown accustomed to much smaller spaces in the City. Even though a lot of them had country houses of their own but which they only visited a few times a year.

The car stopped behind a string of Range Rovers, BMWs and Audis and the driver came out and opened the door. Carter got out first and then extended his hand for Raina to take.

She took a deep breath and got out.

"Do I look good?" she asked, knowing that she sounded ridiculous.

She had gone to great pains to put an outfit together, running to Barneys the day before and just getting a new…everything. The dress was probably a misstep, she realized, but Carter had told her to be herself. So she had opted for an electric blue, open back dress with cupped sleeves by Alexis that clung to her curvaceous figure. It cut a few inches above her knees. She wondered if she should have worn something a little less revealing, but she was already in front of the house. She had coupled the dress with a pair of blue, open toe sling backs by L.A.M.B and had gone for a minimalist look for her jewellery: just some diamond studs in her ears. Her hair was parted at the center and fell down her back, ending by her waist. She had her black-white-and-blue Marc by Marc Jacobs satchel slung across her body.

Raina dipped back into the car quickly and pulled out the coffee cake that she had actually baked herself for Mrs. Bouvier-Baizen's brunch.

"Perfect," said Carter, putting his hand on the small of her back and kissing her tenderly on her cheek. She felt shivers running through her body at his touch. "But I can't promise that she'll love you, though. I always will."

"You look just perfect," said Raina, taking Carter's hand.

She had picked out a light blue Hugo Boss suit that did wonders for his navy blue eyes. She'd even brushed his light brown hair herself so that it was parted at the side and perfectly coiffed. He was wearing the silver Rolex that she had gotten him as a gift just for this occasion and a pair of shiny, black, Gucci loafers. She wanted them to make a good impression on his family: like they gave a damn about their appearance; and that they were successful.

They walked up to the door and Carter rang the bell.

A maid opened the door. She looked about fifty-five and was short and stocky. And she was wearing a typical maid's uniform.

"Mr. Carter?" asked the maid.

"Hello, Helen," he said, winking. "How are you?"

Helen wrapped Carter in her arms and Raina could see that Helen actually wanted to cry.

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" she exclaimed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Mom and Dad," he told her. "And to introduce her to my…"

"Girlfriend," finished Raina.

She knew Carter wanted to say 'fiancé' but she had made a big deal about telling him that, as much as she wanted to accept his proposal, she couldn't say yes without at least trying to reach out to his family. She had no family other than her dad, who she never intended to talk to again, and who she hoped would die in Sing Sing all by himself.

Raina and Carter had met three and a half years earlier at some charity event in New York that she had accompanied Serena to. He had been on the arm of some fading socialite who just wanted a nice young man to keep. Carter, who had no money of his own, had been accompanying this matron for some time. Serena, who knew everybody, had introduced Raina to him. She had long forgiven Carter for his lies and schemes because she was just content with her life in general and holding malice against anyone was not her style.

Before Raina knew it, she had stolen Carter from the aging socialite and he had been living with her in her penthouse at 994 Fifth Avenue.

The rest was history.

Helen took the cake from Raina and led them into the house: the inside was more opulent than the outside with its perfect furniture and expensive chandelier and grand staircase and hardwood floors. She led them into the oversized drawing room—which obviously had been cleared of most of its furniture—which was full of people laughing at people less fortunate than they were and chatting about stocks and bonds and drinking mimosas.

"Carter?" asked a young woman, waltzing over to Raina and Carter.

"Catrina!" exclaimed Carter, letting go of Raina and pulling the girl into him. He lifted her up off the ground and spun her around, getting the attention of some of the other attendees. "Catrina, look at you! You're all grown up."

After he put her down, she flattened the front of her white lace dress, which had capped sleeves like Raina's and had been accented with a silver belt. She was wearing red Christian Louboutins. Her shoulder-length, auburn hair was parted at the center and she was wearing silver Chanel earrings that were in the iconic shape of the interlocking C's.

"Catrina, this is my girlfriend, Raina," said Carter, by way of introduction. "Raina, this is my little sister, Catrina."

Catrina shook hands with Raina. "Of course! Raina Thorpe! I read your article in _Vogue_ every month. And aren't you on the cover of the latest issue of _New York Magazine_? I died when I saw that dress you wore on the cover. It was _everything_."

"Thank you," said Raina, who was glad that she didn't have to do much to win over Catrina. "So where are your parents?"

"Oh, Dad's out of the country," said Catrina. "But Mom is somewhere."

"I'm right here."

Approaching Raina, Carter and Catrina was a middle aged woman of below-average height, flanked by two young men who were obviously Carter's brothers because they looked almost exactly like him but with varying lengths of hair. Mrs. Bouvier-Baizen was wearing a tan, sleeveless tee with a boat neckline and a white, vintage Hermes scarf was wrapped around her little neck. She had on navy blue, straight-fitting pants that cut just above her ankles and some light blue, Tory Burch flats.

Her light-brown hair was done up in a bouffant and her eyes—Carter's eyes—were accusingly trained on Raina. Her face was unnaturally smooth and her lips and cheeks a bit too plump, prompting Raina to think that Botox and fillers were particular friends of Mrs. Bouvier-Baizen's.

"Mom," said Carter. "I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Raina Thorpe. Raina, this is my mother, Muffy Bouvier-Beale."

"Nice to meet you," said Raina, shaking Muffy's hand.

"I never thought I'd see you here again," said the older man on Muffy's right. This had to be Cartier Baizen IV, Carter's older brother. "But I can't say I'm angry to see you." He leaned over and hugged Carter, patting his back.

"Carson!" said Carter, after he was done with Cartier. "Look at how big you've grown."

The younger one, who was on Muffy's right, blushed uncontrollably and hugged Carter.

"You must be done with school by now," said Carter. "What are you up to?"

"In my second year pre-law at Yale," said Carson. "I'm heading back up to campus after brunch."

"We both are," said Catrina. "Heading back to school, that is. He's going to Yale. But I'm going to Columbia Law School. First year."

"You always said you wanted to go to Columbia," said Carter.

"When everybody else went to Yale," said Cartier, with a withering look in his sister's direction.

"I know the Baizens have been going to Yale Law School since time immemorial," said Catrina, rolling her eyes, "but that's exactly why I decided to go to Columbia."

"Either way," said Muffy, "the end will probably be the same. You'll be working at Baizen Law when you graduate. Just like Cartier." She brushed her fingers against her eldest son's hair. "And just like Carter should have."

"Mom, would you mind if I spoke to you privately?" asked Carter, taking Raina's hand.

"Of course," said Carter's mother, leading the whole clan into a lounge on the other side of the house.

Raina sat down next to Carter on a loveseat, all the while holding on tight to her boyfriend.

"Carter, you're lucky your father isn't here," said Muffy, sitting down on a chaise longue and putting her legs up. She propped up her head with her hand. "You know how he gets upset."

"And so do you," said Carter, rolling his eyes and crossing and uncrossing his legs uncomfortably.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked Muffy, matter-of-factly.

"Raina wanted to meet you," said Carter. "Family's very important to her. I've asked her to marry me and she wants to be a part of my family, not just my wife. She wants to be a daughter-in-law, a sister-in-law."

"An aunt," said Cartier. "You weren't around. But I got married. Two kids."

Muffy looked Raina up and down. "Ms. Thorpe, do you work?"

"Not particularly," she said. "I had a leadership position in my father's company. But…we parted ways. And not amicably."

"So what do you do now?"

"I'm mostly a philanthropist and a socialite at the moment," said Raina. "I write an article for _Vogue_ every month. And I chair a few boards in the City."

"Very busy," said Muffy. "You sound a lot like me. But my son isn't anything like my husband, Raina. What makes you think that he's husband material? Not even a college education. Carter, I don't mean to be blunt, but I'd like to know how you live. Does Raina pay for everything?"

Carter got up in a rage but Raina pulled him back down.

"Carter actually has a good job," said Raina, answering Muffy. "My friend, Serena van der Woodsen, owns a PR company. Mostly fashion PR. He worked very closely with Serena but they're trying to diversify into all kinds of events. He's heading their new division into party planning outside of fashion. It's a lot of responsibility. And she tells me that he could probably make partner very soon."

Raina leant over and kissed him on the cheek. She was so proud of Carter. After they had met and he had just descended on her apartment, she made it clear that he had to find something to do because she did _not_ intend to keep him, the way he had been kept by that older socialite. She asked him what he was good at and he told her he only knew about parties.

This got her mental juices flowing because one of her closest friends, Serena, was just about to open her fashion PR company and was in need of some Public Relations Representatives in different specialties. Carter had a very large social network that would have definitely come in handy for the job, so when Raina suggested Carter, Serena took him up.

Now he was going to head their new division, expanding from just fashion and into pretty much anything. Carter was basically going to get his own staff and a corner office of his very own as well. So Raina was excited for him.

But it didn't seem to have the same effect on Muffy.

She laughed heartily. "My son is a party planner? A perfectly respectable job, I suppose. But not for a grown man."

"I think it is," said Raina. "And I'm proud of him."

"Ms. Thorpe, Carter could have been a lawyer like the rest of his family," said Muffy, shaking her head. "My father was a lawyer and so is Carter's father. He had a bright future. And I think Cartier and I wouldn't mind bringing him back into the family if he just forgot all of that and went to college. It's never too late. And there'll always be a place for him at Baizen Law."

"That's what you never understood," said Carter, shaking his head. "I never wanted to be a lawyer. I never got a chance to decide what I wanted to be. You just decided for me."

"Cartier here turned out just fine," responded Muffy. "A nice house in Paris and summers here with me. A nice wife. Children. What more can you want?"

Carter got up and pulled Raina up with him.

"This is what you wanted to see?" asked Carter. "This is my family. If they can't accept me, they won't accept you."

"Oh, I accept Raina," said Muffy. "I'm actually very familiar with her. I read an article about her in _Town and Country _a few issues ago. She's a very good girl. But I think she could do a lot better than a party planner."

Raina felt like enough was enough. Muffy had insulted her boyfriend and now her taste in men. And she wasn't going to stand for it anymore. Carter was a lot of things but Raina didn't think that he was any worse than anybody else in her circle. Nobody was a saint.

"Muffy, it was really nice to meet you but I think this was a mistake," said Raina. "I think you should go back to your party and we should make our way back into the City. I hope you enjoy the coffee cake I made for you."

"I'm sure I will," said Muffy, admiring her manicure.

As Raina and Carter got back into the car, Raina said, "The answer is yes."

"To what?"

"I'll marry you," said Raina. "But on one condition."

Carter chuckled as he dipped down in his pocket and pulled out the box. He opened it, pulled out the ring and shoved it on her finger.

Raina looked down at it: it was perfect. It was a big, beautiful ring made of white gold, diamonds and blue topaz.

It was so her and she had fallen in love with it from the moment he had taken it out and proposed at Serena's pink party last week, in front of all of their friends. In the moment, she had said yes because she was a girly girl and liked diamonds. But when she'd gotten back to her Hamptons home, she gave him the ultimatum: either they go see his family and at least attempt to reunite them; or they wouldn't get married.

"You haven't heard my condition," she said.

"What?"

"If I'm ever like that with my kids, you have my permission to commit me," she said.

Carter laughed and they made out all the way from Connecticut to Manhattan.


	8. Blair II

_Blair II_

As Chuck opened the cold bottle of Veuve Clicqout that he had bought just for this occasion, Blair felt excited with the information that she wanted to share with her friends and couldn't help from comparing her mind with the expensive champagne bubbling over into everyone's glasses because it was so full.

But, of course, she had to do the formalities.

It was Fashion Week, after all. And Fashion Week was nothing if it wasn't ritualistic.

"Jenny," she began, holding up her flute. She could see through her peripheral vision cameras flashing a few feet away from her or recording her for FashionTV. "Thank you for another wonderful collection. It was a success."

Jenny had managed to produce yet another perfect collection and it had been so well received that there was a standing ovation at the end accompanied by jubilant applause. Blair, naturally, had been in the front row and had almost jumped for joy at how wonderfully things had turned out. Of course, Serena had closed the show off in her flawless, backless, emerald evening gown. Her hair had been pulled up into a messy bun and she looked like the Goddess everyone always said she was.

Jenny Humphrey truly had a talent.

The orders had already started pouring in for this collection, Blair's assistant had informed her less than ten minutes after the show had ended and she and Jenny had gone backstage to do interviews, so Blair was going to be sashaying, like Serena on the catwalk, all the way to the bank.

"Yes, Jenny," said Serena, who had swapped out of her evening gown and into a plain, white crop-top with the words 'J for Waldorf' in solid, black letters going across her bosom, and her perfectly toned abs exposed; and a pair of figure hugging white jeans, also by Waldorf, clung to her slender hips and went all the way down her giraffe legs.

Jenny had also forayed into accessories so Serena was also wearing a pair of super high gold pumps and a big, rose-gold watch.

"It was beautiful," continued Serena. "And it was a pleasure walking in your show yet again." She clinked her glass against Jenny's.

"Thank you, guys," said Jenny, less enthusiastically than Blair would have liked.

But Blair also understood it: if her Chuck had announced to the City that he was expecting a baby with that snake Sage Spence the very morning of one of the biggest fashion shows of the year, she would have been less than stellar as well. But Jenny had been a trooper: she had shown up and had done all of her interviews—even though some of the reporters asked her about Nate and Sage rather tactlessly—and she had handled things in a graceful way. Blair was proud of her.

After Nate had made the announcement, Blair had asked him not to come to the show even though he always came just to show support. Naturally, he understood.

"It was really very good," said Raina, in a pink dress that Blair had had sent over to Raina's apartment. Raina had quickly become one of the New York It Girls and she had been photographed in this outfit multiple times for the evening. It would, naturally, circulate the blogosphere and appear in magazines and websites. Which would only be good for business.

It was like having a second Serena!

"Okay, guys," said Serena's younger brother, Eric van der Woodsen, standing in front of the cameras. He waved his hands in front of them. "Show's over. The press is leaving now. I think the Marc Jacobs show is going to finish soon. You should get over there."

They scuttled away.

Eric sighed and then turned to Chuck, Blair, Jenny, Serena and Raina. He smiled at them and neatened his black shirt into his black jeans as he made his way over. He took off his headset and tossed it on a nearby table but picked up a bouquet of flowers that had been there.

Eric was Serena's business partner and had run this fashion show pretty much all by himself. Blair told herself that she had to remember to get him a spa weekend or something. He looked completely tired and out of it from putting the whole thing together. It wasn't easy work, putting a fashion show together, even though the show itself only lasted a few minutes.

Serena handed him a glass of champagne and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you so much, Eric," she cooed.

"You looked great out there tonight, Serena," he told her, grabbing her by the waist.

He handed the flowers to Jenny and she gushed.

"Bitch, they're not from me," he said. "They came backstage when the show ended. You should check the card."

Jenny read the card and her face immediately turned beet red. But she just tucked it away in her jacket pocket and acted like she'd never read it.

"Guys, I have an announcement to make," said Blair abruptly, exasperated by her patience.

"What's up, Blair?" asked Chuck, putting his hand at the small of her back and kissing her softly on the cheek.

"I've decided that I no longer want to run Waldorf Designs."

Everyone looked stunned. And she understood why. Waldorf Designs was her mother's legacy to her: Eleanor had built it from the ground up. Well, that wasn't exactly true because before she was Eleanor Waldorf, she was Eleanor Wheaton, the only child of big-time real estate developer Anthony Wheaton and his wife Geneva. He'd given her the capital to start her own fashion house after she'd graduated from FIT at the top of her class.

But she was the one who had the talent and she had wielded it to the point that she had become a fashion mogul in her own right. When she'd married venture capitalist Harold Waldorf, her Upper East Side life had reached its peak of perfection. Up until he left her for a man.

Blair knew how much this company meant to her mother. But she wasn't fulfilled in it. She wasn't content being in Jenny's shadow and she didn't feel like handling the business end of things did anything for her self-confidence.

"I've decided to run for Congress," she announced. Then she took a swig of her champagne, awaiting a response from everyone.

But the silence was deafening.

"Are you even…political?" asked Raina, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched. "Registered I mean?"

Blair furrowed her eyebrows in Raina's general direction and then scowled while she finished her drink.

"Blair, this is a very big announcement," said Eric, a perplexed expression on his face. "Have you really…thought this through?"

"Of course she has," said Serena, good-naturedly. "B thinks everything through."

"Thanks, S," whispered Blair, taking Serena's hand.

"What prompted this choice?" asked Jenny, her elbow entwined with her best friend Eric's.

Blair was just about to explain when she had the shock of her life. Over Jenny's shoulder strode Georgina Sparks, in all black, of course: a black, cashmere, V-neck sweater and black skinny-jeans and black stilettos. She also had two non-descript girls who were also wearing black shuffling behind her. Her dark-brown hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and she was talking away on her BlackBerry, a black tote bag with a funky heart-shaped pattern all over it in her hands. Blair didn't recognize the brand

She waltzed over to their little group and proceeded to kiss both Raina and Serena on the cheeks in that way that always made Blair throw up just a little in her mouth before she ended her call. Blair had learnt to tolerate Georgina over the past few years since she was Raina, Dan and Serena's manager—she ran Georgina Sparks Management, which was becoming a force to be reckoned with in New York for socialites, writers, actors, musicians and the like—so they always tended to run into each other.

But she made it her business never to invite Georgina to the fashion show even though she was her aunt-in-law.

"Why are you backstage here, Georgina?" said Blair disdainfully.

"I came to usher my clients out," said Georgina coolly, fiddling with her phone. "Raina's supposed to be going to the Tory Burch show next. And Serena's scheduled to be at the Tory Burch show too. So I'm going to need you two to go change."

Georgina snapped her fingers and the girls, who were holding garment bags and high-heels in their hands, led Serena and Raina away.

Blair and Jenny were supposed to attend the Tory Burch show too. Blair's mother had always been a close friend of Tory's so Blair (and by extension Serena and Jenny) was always invited to the Tory Burch show for Mercedes Benz Fashion Week. So she kissed Chuck, who told her that he had some business at Bass Industries to oversee, and then went into the changing rooms that had been made for the models to put on her Tory Burch outfit.

"You clean up well, Waldorf," said Georgina, barely glancing at Blair.

"Wish I could say the same for you," said Blair, rolling her eyes.

Georgina led them to another part of Lincoln Center, where the Tory Burch show was to begin soon. Blair was interviewed very briefly but Serena, Jenny and Raina were the stars since they were the actual fashionistas.

When they got inside, they found out that they were all going to be sitting together like they had been every year for as long as Blair could remember. And they posed together for pictures by magazine photographers.

The show started a few minutes later. And then there was a second and third surprise: Maureen van der Bilt and Poppy Lifton waltzed in late and sat down right next to Blair.

Maureen, whose husband Blair intended to replace in Congress, thanks to his latest sex scandal with an intern which had recently gone public and which he was stepping down for, was sitting right next to her.

There was going to be a sudden election and Blair intended to win.

Maureen van der Bilt had never been someone Blair had a great deal of respect for. For one thing, her husband was a pig who wasn't always discreet with his affairs. And he'd endangered Serena in a car accident that could have very well claimed her best friend's life. But what was most disgusting to Blair was that Maureen stayed with Tripp through it all even though they'd filed for divorce a few years ago. But they dropped it soon after.

Blair wanted to know who thought it was a good idea to place her between Serena and Maureen. But then the affair hadn't really been public knowledge.

And Poppy Lifton was that particular kind of New York monster that Blair despised but who had somehow always managed to resurface, like a really horrible weed in your perfect garden. The last she'd heard, Poppy had hightailed it to LA, where she'd managed to style a couple celebrities and was making waves. But Blair never thought she'd see that piece of trash again. Least of all at Mercedes Benz Fashion Week.

They were in the company of another young woman that Blair thought vaguely familiar but she couldn't place her.

After the show and the proper compliments given to the designer, Blair ran into Maureen, Poppy and the mystery girl outside while she waited on Raina, Jenny and Serena.

"Blair Waldorf," said Maureen, throwing a Burberry plaid scarf around her neck.

"Waldorf-Bass."

"Whatever," said Maureen. "I heard a rumor this afternoon. Some grumblings in the party. I heard your father has been making calls to get you to be our candidate for New York's 14th Congressional District. And I thought…'Isn't Blair Waldorf a fashion designer?' But then I heard from my grandfather-in-law that it was true."

Blair shrugged. "Well it is. I intend to."

"You're going to have a fight on your hands, though," said Maureen, admiring her French manicure. "Because I want that position."

"So wait," said Blair, stifling a laugh. "You're pulling a Hilary Clinton on us? Disgraced political figure of a husband and now you intend to be the phoenix rising from the ashes of his burnt out career? As _if_."

"That's the plan," said Maureen, shrugging.

"And she has some help," said Poppy, flattening her jet-black bob. Unlike most people who attended Tory Burch's show, Poppy was wearing one of her own designs under a pretty nice coat that Blair assumed was another Poppy Lifton original as well. It had the same pattern as Georgina's tote. "Now that I'm back in New York and my show has been so well received for my first time at New York Fashion Week, I think I have some clout."

"I don't," said Blair, scowling at Poppy. "You're still as tacky as I remember you."

"Blair, please have some respect for my client's designer," said Georgina, descending the staircase behind Blair with Blair's three friends in tow.

One second later, a photographer ran up to the mystery girl and snapped a candid picture of her and ran off.

"Blanca?" said Serena, squinting her eyes at the young woman who had just been photographed. "Blanca Marquez del Rey?"

The young woman looked over at Serena and it was as if she had come alive. And Blair suddenly remembered who she was. Blanca Marquez del Rey—who went simply by Blanca professionally—was a musician. She'd had a couple hit songs a few years ago but she was constantly in and out of rehab until she had all but fallen off the map because she needed a respite from Hollywood in order to recuperate.

Her surname, though, sounded very familiar to Blair.

Then that hit her too.

Blanca's brother, Cris, had just bought Blair's penthouse.

"Blanca!" squealed Serena. "What are you doing here?"

Blanca flipped her wavy, chocolate hair over her shoulder and flashed Serena a smile. Of course she was a friend of Serena's. She was just as beautiful as Serena was: she had a chest that Blair only dreamt of; she had legs that went on for miles and miles; she was stylish for days. But her face was like a porcelain doll's. She had the most beautiful heart-shaped face that Blair had ever seen with a cleft chin and beautiful, long-lashed, golden eyes that shone in the New York lights. Her lips were pursed in that come-hither way.

Serena enveloped Blanca in a hug.

"Serena," said Blanca, "I'm so glad I ran into you."

"I wanted you to sit down next to Serena," said Georgina. "But Waldorf here apparently reserved that seat. And I couldn't ask her to switch."

"Jenny," said Poppy Lifton, whose eyes lit up on Blair's creative director. "I'm sorry I missed your show."

"I'm sure you weren't invited," said Jenny, who didn't like Poppy after Poppy had tried to con Jenny's father years ago with her then-boyfriend Gabriel Edwards.

"Jenny, I'm sorry about what I did to your father," continued Poppy. "I can pay him back his money if you'd like. We're both fashion designers, J. I wouldn't want us to have a very public dispute."

"We can save it for the catwalk," said Jenny. "Or the bottom line of both of our companies, thanks to Barneys, Bergdorf's and Bloomingdale's."

Blair smiled at Jenny's comeback.

"Georgina's my new manager," said Blanca, connecting elbows with Serena. "I needed a clean break after this last stint in rehab."

"And I'm her new stylist-slash-designer," said Poppy proudly. "I intend to design for Maureen on her campaign trail as well."

"Not going to happen," said Blair.

If Blair Waldorf-Bass was going to have to rely on her handy scheming abilities to become Congresswoman Waldorf-Bass, she would. And nobody was going to stand in her way.


End file.
